


Back to the Future

by asstiel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Scenting, Tourism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1661162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asstiel/pseuds/asstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a time traveling tour guide. Derek is a grumpy prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea where this came from.

“Okay, before we leave I’m gonna need everybody to pay close attention, because it’s possible that the rules have changed since the last time you travelled with us.” Stiles called out to the group and clapped his hands together.

“First rule, no flash photography. The subjects can possibly become disoriented if they see the flash. Second, no snacks of any sort. This is to prevent any potential issues with allergies and leaving trash behind. Third, this was sent to you guys via email, but nobody should be wearing any scent enhancing perfume or cologne. It could be dangerous to yourself and the group if you’re wearing your signature scent.” A few giggles could be heard from the back and Stiles almost guaranteed it was from the group of high school aged girls he had checked in earlier. Every once and a while some desperate Alpha or Omega would try to sneak some of those bogus perfumes in. It never ended well. 

“And finally, we here at Historical Encounters pride ourselves in the safety and quality of the tour. However, there are always chances for emergencies. If something goes wrong, you all must pay attention to me so we can get back to the right time!” Stiles grinned. “Now, everybody with the pink wrist bands, you’re with Erica for the Roaring Twenties. Everybody else should have a green wrist band, and you’re with me with a tour to the Hale Dynasty!” 

Stiles had been working with the tour company for almost three months now. For a History major who dabbled in magic with no real interest in academia, this was one of the best businesses to get into in the country. It paid well, had relatively flexible hours and was cool as hell. He got to see actual knights every day! 7-year-old Stiles would shit himself if he knew. The Hale Dynasty tour was one of the more popular tours offered at the company, and as much as Stiles liked to pretend it was because of the enriching nature of his spiel, he knew it was because of the Hales themselves. They were pretty much legends, especially around Beacon Hills. The Hales were the first openly werewolf leaders in the country, and had a just and relatively stable rule for nearly 100 years. Not to mention that the royal family was hot like burning. It was no coincidence that Stiles’ tour had the highest rate of recently divorced middle-aged women in the company.

 As Stiles’ tour arranged themselves around him, he gave them a quick background of the Hale family.

“So, who we’ll probably see today is Queen Talia and her husband King Edward. From what we’ve been able to guess from the past couple of months, Queen Talia is grooming her eldest, Laura, for the throne as her successor. So, there is a very good chance we will see Princess Laura in the throne room learning from her mother. We may also see Peter, Talia’s brother, who has been running the royal mint in recent years. Prince Derek-” titters erupted in the group, but Stiles pushed through “Prince Derek has recently returned from negotiations with the Argent clan, and has been spotted in the last couple of tours. Of course, there are many other players that we could see, so don’t be afraid to ask questions or point anybody out! Our protection spells in our wrist bands will make us both invisible and silent, to help us see the Hale family as naturally as possible, so make sure you don’t take them off for any reason.”

As much as Stiles loved working for Historical Encounters, he _loathed_ the actual time travel. Usually it felt like his stomach was trying to escape through his throat, but on one memorable occasion he actually passed out. Erica had made fun of him for over a week because of it. And he had been regulated to the snack booth until he ‘built up his strength’. But all the queasiness was worth it once he landed outside of the Hale castle and remembered that he had actually just travelled about 300 years back in time. The awe never really wore off for him.

At this point, Stiles had all of his parts memorized and going through the castle was a breeze. He paused when the inevitable giggles about mating rituals occurred and let the brutality of capital punishment sink in when they passed the gallows. Stiles liked keeping the Great Hall for last, it was easily the most impressive room in the castle and was a good last-ditch attempt to spot any members of the royal family.

And Stiles had timed it perfectly. All of the of age family members were eating, discussing the recent agreement with the Argents. Stiles let the group take pictures and get a grasp on the scene before them.

“Okay, guys! So you are all in for a treat, we have most of the Hales here in front of you. Most of you might not recognize Cora, but she recently turned sixteen and was debuted to society. This now allows her to participate in state matters.” Stiles thinks he would have liked Cora if they ever met. He watched her elbow Derek in the ribs the other day after Derek had implied that she had been sniffing an Omega a little too closely.

Since Prince Derek had returned, Stiles had been keeping a close eye on him. He didn’t want to say that he was stalking him; because it was already creepy enough that he took people on tours through Derek’s house while being invisible. But, he was definitely stalking him. It was just that even in a family of bonafide hotties, Derek was painfully gorgeous. And Stiles knew that under that tunic and britches, he was rocking a serious bod. In spite of Derek’s perpetual grump face, Stiles was in love. He wanted to chew off Derek’s substantial eyebrows.  Or something.  It was seriously unfair that Stiles had found the perfect man centuries before he was even born.

“Any last questions before we head back?” Stiles asked.

“Uh, yeah?” One of the teenage girls raised her hand. “You said that the Hales don’t know we’re here right?”

“Righto!” Stiles chirped. “As long as everyone has kept their bracelet on, we are ninjas! Unseen and unheard.” He waggled his fingers for effect.

“Um, okay. Then why is Prince Derek staring right at us?”

Stiles whipped his head around and sure enough, Derek was staring at what should have been an empty corner. Pretty intensely, too.

“Oh, haha,” Stiles chuckled nervously “Derek’s been a bit off for the past few days. Must have eaten some bad deer or something. Anyways, that’s all the time we have for today! Collect yourselves and head out, time to go _back to the future_.” There was one collective groan from the tour group. Plebeians.

Stiles tried not to alarm the group, but he couldn’t help but notice that Derek was tracking them through the room. This was definitely Not Good.


	2. Chapter 2

The scent was driving Derek _crazy._

He first noticed it a few days after returning from the Argent lands, when he was wandering down the halls of the lesser-used wings of the castle. It was spicy and warm, and it didn’t seem to be concentrated in any one area. Instead it trailed around nearly the whole castle, before fading away completely.

It was like a drug, and completely impossible to ignore. Once Derek was able to smell it, he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. It was infuriating. Especially since he was no closer to figuring out what the source of the scent was.  He had offhandedly asked Cora if the castle had obtained any new servants while he was gone, and he had received a look that made it very clear that Cora did not pay attention to the comings and goings of the servants in the castle. After that he was too uncomfortable to ask other family members, lest they ask questions he did not know how to answer. 

As the second born, he faced considerably less pressure than Laura to marry, but that was not to say there was none at all. Derek knew that part of the reason that he had been chosen to lead the diplomatic relations with the Argents, was his mother’s hope that he might find a young thing to recite sonnets to. A marriage with the Argents would be politically advantageous to both families, and a symbol of strengthened relations between werewolves and humans. But, none of the Argents Derek found to be appealing. He really thought they were a bunch of bloodthirsty psychopaths, but that was neither here nor there.

Derek knew he was unlikely to be as lucky as his parents, who were both true mates and members of the strongest families in Beacon Hills. True mates were spectacularly hard to find, and it was considered a great boon to have one.  Some of the older generations believed that werewolves with true mates were better suited for leadership, and more balanced than an unmated wolf. 

There were countless stories of true mates through the ages, and all went through great pains to describe how the werewolves were able to identify their mate. Some went crazy with lust, and attempted to consummate the bond on the spot. Others became content to simply follow their mate and bask in their scent for a while. To Derek, however, it felt like lightning ran beneath his skin. The scent around the castle made him restless, and it only got worse when he was unable to identify the origin of the scent.

He was in the middle of an unbelievably boring discussion on the wheat growing capabilities of the northern fields (his mother thought they would continue to produce for several more years while their advisor Tomos was “not confident this could be done”), when the maybe-mate smell hit him full force.

But nobody else had entered the room, and Derek couldn’t even hear a new body that could be the source of the scent from the neighboring rooms.  The scent was definitely there, and growing stronger with each passing moment. The castle could have caught fire and Derek would have been none the wiser.

What was odder was that nobody else in the room, not even the royal family, appeared to notice anything off. Derek tried his best to track the source of the scent from across the room, and it seemed to be originating from the furthest wall.  For a few moments, the scent overwhelmed Derek’s senses, and then it was gone. 

Excusing himself gruffly, he spent the rest of the afternoon searching for the scent in vain.  For the next few days he continued his hunt around the castle, finding the last few corners of the castle that still held his mystery mate’s scent. Laura teased him lightly about a chambermaid catching his eye, and Peter just smirked at him knowingly when he found Derek smelling one of the tapestries.

He took to spending more time in the forests, running himself to the point of exhaustion so he couldn’t be bothered to think about the infuriating scent around the castle. Lulled into a false sense of security, Derek almost began to think that he had made the whole thing up. That was until he was alone in the library and was completely blindsided by the pure scent of _mate_.

With his fangs dropping and claws popping out, Derek felt like a pup again, unable to control the shift. Derek wasted no time blocking the exit and quickly tracking the source of the mate smell. It kept shifting, just out of grasp. _Smart mate_ , Derek’s wolf approved, _needs to be chased_. Quick as a flash, Derek sprung at what he believed to be the source of the scent. When he hit something solid, he grinned around his fangs. His mate was witch.

Witches were revered in Beacon Hills. To many they represented the bridge between humans and werewolf. They held magic, but magic that they had to learn and earn, rather than the magic of werewolves that was innate. Many witches were seen as trusted advisors to royalty, and it was important to have them close to the throne in case of emergency. The most knowledgeable could bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death. But the wisest would keep their talents hidden until necessary. Which probably made Deaton the most intelligent witch in all history, because Derek had never seen him brew so much as a stomach tonic. 

His family would be most pleased to discover that his mate was a witch. And with Derek’s lineage, it was unlikely that he would be rejected to complete the mate bond.

“Show yourself witch-mate.”

Almost instantly, a form flickered into view beneath Derek.

“First of all, dude, don’t call me a witch. It’s sexist as shit and I have a name. Furthermore, I think it’s a little-” The boy paused, his mouth gaping. “Mate?” He squeaked.

“Mate.” Derek agreed, rumbling. “Mate.”

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Shit, shit, shit. _Shit._

Normally having two hundred pounds of heavily muscled werewolf on top of him would made for most of Stiles’ nighttime (and daytime) fantasies, but this did not extend to the dozen odd spectators who were not so discretely taking photographs.

“I don’t remember this being in the brochure.” One of the tourists giggled. Good to know they were all so concerned about Stiles’ safety.

“Foxtrot! Foxtrot!” Stiles hissed towards the to group.

As the tourists quickly filed out of the room, to escape out of the castle per Stiles’ orders, Stiles turned back to Derek. “So, any chance you’ll get off of me, big guy?”

Derek’s only response was to bury his face in Stiles’ neck and take a deep breath. 

This was not going great. 

A half an hour passed with some major self-control on Stiles’ part about his Pants Situation. He never really thought that having some dude breathe wetly into his neck would get him going, but it _was_ starring his go-to jerk-off material, so there was that. Stiles was pretty sure he could get a half chub from just watching Derek do his taxes.  If princes even did taxes. Anyway, the dude was hot.

As Stiles desperately recounted the time he fell out of a Port-a-Potty mid-stream, Derek tensed over him and started growling. Over Derek’s shoulder, Stiles could just see the top of some servant’s head.

“Prince Derek?” The poor guy squeaked. “Her majesty is searching for you.”

Once it became abundantly clear that Derek had no intention of responding verbally, Stiles stepped in. 

“Apparently I’m the prince’s mate?” Stiles squirmed to get a better look at the servant, which Derek liked _a lot_. “So if you could get somebody to help me out here that would be awesome!” He finished quickly, his voice easily raising an octave once Derek started to slowly hump his leg, Jesus Christ. He was an embarrassment to werewolves everywhere. 

“Okay, no.” Stiles commanded, as firmly as possible. “Your mom is going to come in at any moment and I am not meeting the freaking queen with you humping my leg.” Derek stopped, but Stiles knew that it was a short-lived battle. He could practically see the wheels turning in Derek’s head about the pros and cons of being caught in flagrante by his mom. “No. Nope. Definitely not. Don’t even think about it, mister.” Stiles took a deep breath. “And while you’re paying attention, you need to be nicer to your servants, dude. They’re just doing their job. I’m sure life blows hard enough as it is for them. It’s not like they’re gonna take me away from you.”

They took Stiles away from Derek.

Well, technically Derek’s family did. After the whole royal family filed into the room, Derek’s sisters and uncle started snickering, his mother looked livid, and his father just looked resigned. Apparently it wasn’t so much that they disproved of Derek’s choice in Stiles, but that Derek had forgotten the very real and very strict courting rules.

Despite Stiles’ pleas that he needed to go home, he was ignored. Derek had bonded enough with Stiles, enough that if Stiles suddenly disappeared, the prognosis was not good. Pre-bonded mates were notoriously susceptible to loss of control and in worst-case scenarios, going feral. The last thing Stiles needed was a feral Derek following him into the 21st century and wreaking havoc. And although Stiles wouldn’t feel the pre-bond connection as keenly as Derek, it would definitely be unwise to spirit off in the night.

So instead of polishing off the burrito he had been saving in his freezer for a special occasion, Stiles spent his Friday night feverishly researching. He had been granted access to the library, _thank God_ , and immediately made a beeline for any books mentioning mating rituals.

From what he could glean from the surprisingly vague texts, there wasn’t any cut and dry way for werewolves to court their desired mate. The historical examples ranged from challenging every other werewolf in the kingdom to ‘presenting’ in the throne room. Ew. By the end of the night, Stiles was just praying that Derek was more of the homemade card and maybe some flowers type of guy. Stiles had a totally healthy number of kinks, but public sex was not one of them, thank you. Well, mostly.

Once he was back to his chambers, the novelty of living in the past was rapidly wearing off. He was in one of the nicest guest chambers, but it still smelled vaguely of mold and low tide. It was also _freezing_ , despite the roaring fire in the hearth. Somehow he managed to drift off to sleep, praying for an electric blanket.

The next morning, Stiles was roused by the low murmurs sounding from the other side of his chamber door. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, and swinging his legs around the bed, Stiles plodded towards the door. The day had hardly begun and there was already something happening.

After opening the heavy wooden door to the hallway, Stiles followed the stares of the small crowd and promptly screamed bloody murder.

A boar. A dead boar was in front of him. A fly walked across the unseeing eyeball of the animal.

What. The. Fuck.

Over his panic, Stiles just barely heard the laughing voice of Peter Hale.

“I see you’ve received my nephew’s gift then. So thoughtful of him.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the gap. I suck. =(

After Stiles made a hasty retreat to his chambers, the bloody tusks of the dead boar forever seared into the back of his eyelids, he attempted to regroup. Unwillingly, his mind wandered to the pack trip to Yellowstone when Scott had started to stalk the bison in an attempt to hunt one down for Allison. And then had been mercilessly mocked for the duration of the trip, and then every drunken night since.  This was definitely Derek’s way of proving that he could provide for Stiles. And maybe Stiles was a little bit impressed that Derek was able to kill the animal that had gored Robert Baratheon, but that was so beside the point. 

If he was going to be held in this castle, somewhat against his will, then he was going to have to lay down some ground rules with the prince. Like, for starters, no dead things outside his door. It just wasn’t hygienic. He would think of more later, it had been a really trying morning and Stiles wasn’t really up to the task at the moment.

Thankfully, when Stiles braved to venture outside of his chambers again, some kindhearted servant had dragged the boar far, far away.  Wandering back to the library, Stiles opened the doors to find a very morose Derek waiting for him.

“You didn’t like it.”

Stiles’ heart promptly broke into a million little pieces. Derek acted like his first crush stomped on his valentine, not like the hottest goddamn prince in the galaxy.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it,” Stiles lied. He hated it. He hated it so much. “It just surprised me. We court differently where I’m from.” Stiles stepped closer to Derek, had he always smelled this good? Also, why could Stiles smell Derek from across the room? That was definitely a new development. “I’m not used to such grand gestures.”

“Laura warned me that it could have come off as a little aggressive.” Derek smiled sheepishly. Stiles was in love. Stiles wanted to lick Derek’s throat. 

Something was definitely _happening_ with Stiles’ instincts. Allison had mentioned once, under great duress, that dating Scott had awakened certain urges in her. Stiles had taken this to mean that she wanted to, like, fuck under a full moon or something. Not submit to his alpha and maybe (absolutely) have a visible claim mark. 

Derek’s schoolboy smile turned a little more dangerous, once he picked up what Stiles’ body was throwing down.

“That’s okay!” Stiles squeaked, blushing furiously. “Totally okay. Don’t worry about it, dude. I’m cool as a cucumber over here. Just chillin’ like a villain. That’s me.” 

“Alright.” Derek agreeably. And when did he get so close? Did he move, or did Stiles? Stiles was having some difficulty thinking clearly, Derek just smelled so damn good and all Stiles really needed was a good fuck. Maybe if they just traded hand jobs they wouldn’t get in trouble?

Derek was clearly thinking along the same lines, because Stiles watched as Derek’s hand seemed to move in slowmo towards his button-fly.  A throat cleared near the doorway, and Derek’s hand shot back like he had been shocked.

“Tsk-tsk, brother.” Laura appeared at the entrance. “You know it’s not proper to be with your intended alone. The mating drive can be very strong in humans, especially those touched with magic.” Stiles’ face burned. Of fucking course. The mystical mating drive. They had touched on it briefly in sex ed, and Finstock had said it was more of an urban legend than anything. Why Stiles had trusted Finstock was anybody’s guess. It was usually used as a weak writing technique in fairy-tales to why the human maiden didn’t run away as soon as some random werewolf started sniffing up on her. Basically, it said that in some humans, the werewolf urges were mirrored in their mates. Resulting in heightened senses, and traditionally lycanthrope sexual preferences. Which explained all the throat biting imagery that had Stiles’ jeans feeling a little snugger.

“Laura.” Derek ground out. “Do not tell anyone about this.” He paused. “Especially Peter.”

Laura’s eyes widened innocently. “Why would I tell anybody about this, sweet brother? Have I ever been this cruel?” 

“Yes.” 

“Perhaps.” Laura’s innocent look was gone in a flash, and replaced by a shit-eating smile. “But of course I won’t be telling the courts about your secret rendez-vous because I’ll be so full from your desserts for the next month.” 

“I pray you’ll get too fat for your gowns and omegas will shriek at your immense size.”

“God willing.” Laura grinned and with a swish of her skirts was out of the room.

“Wow,” Stiles breathed, “she’s the evil big sister I’ve always dreamed of.” Derek only grunted in response. “No, seriously. Do you think she’ll hang out with me? I’m only like, 70% sure that she’d eat my firstborn.” Silence. Clearly Laura was a sore spot for the crowned prince. It couldn’t be easy following a force of nature like that for your entire life. Especially for someone as monosyllabic as Derek seemed to be. 

Time to change tactics. “Do you think we could go grab something to eat? I haven’t eaten anything since last night and I’m starving.” Suddenly Derek was at full attention.

“Yes, of course.” He said quickly. “The kitchens should still have food from breakfast, if not they can make us something.” 

Stiles resisted frowning. The idea of servants waiting on him hand and foot did not thrill him in the slightest, but this _was_ normal to Derek and his family. If he wanted to make the courting as pain free as possible, it was probably a good idea to not lecture them on the social structure of the world that they knew. Besides, Stiles interacting with such a major historical figure was already risky enough as it was. He did not need to add the emancipation of the serving class about 75 years early, to the inevitable police report that waited for him when he returned home.

But there wasn’t much he could do about it now, until somebody from the company at least came to check up on him. Without the royal family, he was homeless and stuck in the wrong century.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think! this is the first time I've written IN A LONG ASS TIME, so any input is gr9.


End file.
